The Quest for the Lonely Star, or But I Don't Want to Go to Space!
by kkolmakov
Summary: Captain John Thorington, USS Erebor, is having a bad couple of days. His ship is taken from him, his crew is missing a medic, and it turns out he is a guardian of a twenty-four year old delinquent. Perhaps, a five year long mission to space isn't such a bad idea! *No Infringement Intended*


**Prologue**

"She is my ship!" Captain John Thorington slams him palm into the Admiral's table. "My father served on it! My grandfather helped build her! I belong to her!"

"I am aware of your genealogy, John," Admiral Grey's tone is soft, voice low and calm, and Thorington feels even more livid. Surely, something can be done. They cannot take her from him! "It is not a penalty, John. You are getting _USS Ered Luin_, it is a larger vessel..."

"I do not care!" Thorington snarls through his teeth. How can they not understand? It is not a question of pride, there is simply no choice. Not for him! _Erebor _is his!

"John, take a break. Go to a bar, have a drink, relax, perhaps take a week off, and accept your new captainship," Admiral gets up showing the conversation is over. He leans on his tall cane and warmly smiles to Thorington. John puffs out air in indignation. He hates Admiral's all knowing smile from under the bushy grey brows and his mollifying tone. He especially hates that he certainly sees pity in the old man's eyes.

He slams the door to Admiral's office behind himself and annoyingly jerks the collar of the dark grey uniform. Dwalinson is waiting for him by the entrance. "No luck?" John doesn't bestow him with an answer. He marches by, and with a heavy sigh his Security Chief follows.

In the Starfleet bar it is rather empty tonight. A few cadets are seeping drinks in the corner, a couple of young ensigns whispering by the bar counter, throwing flirty looks at the cute bartender, and Thorington angrily plops in a booth. Dwalinson sits down in front of him and puts his sledgehammer fists on the table.

"What is our plan, Captain?" A waiter shows up and quickly flees under a double glare and in search of Jameson. He is mumbling under his breath that they might not carry this antique poison.

"We don't have one," Thorington is staring at his own hands on the glass surface, "They gave her to that ponce, Smaug. What kind of name even is it, Benedict Smaug?" Thorington mockingly drawls the name, and Dwalinson smirks darkly. "The crew stays together, and we need a few new ones, _Ered Luin_ is a big girl. But otherwise, they didn't give me much choice..."

"And what of a medic?" Dwalinson sounds concerned. "Balinson is old, he won't take full responsibility over the ship's crew. We need someone new..."

"We do need another medic. I'll talk to the old man, he said he had a good candidate…" Thorington's communicator chirps, and he picks up. "John Thorington."

"Captain Thorington? This is Officer Johnson, Third Police Department of New London, you are contacted regarding your ward."

"My ward?" A thought of a hospital ward comes to his mind, and in combination with just discussing a medic on his ship, he is confused.

"Miss Wren Elizabeth Leary, whose guardian you were appointed upon the death of her parents ten years ago?" The officer's tone is tired. It is a barmy job. The city is the last unsafe place on Earth.

Thorington swears under his breath. He does indeed remember to be informed of it, but him and Leary had fallen out many years before the latter's unfortunate demise. They served together on John's first ship. He had never before been contacted regarding the girl. How old is she now? Finishing school perhaps?

"What can I do for you, officer Johnson?"

"Miss Leary has been detained for public disorderly behaviour, and as her guardian you are obliged to take her under your supervision and oversee her commitment to public service during the next three months."

"I beg your pardon?" He is hissing through his teeth, and Dwalinson freezes with his tumbler to his lips. John is squeezing his so hard that it is in danger of cracking at any point of time.

"Since, according to her parents' will, till the age of twenty five Miss Leary is your dependent, it means she is your responsibility for the next year."

"She is twenty four?!" Bollocks, what a hell is he going to do with a twenty four year old woman who is also a delinquent?

"Yes, sir. And as the judge appointed, for the next three months you are to supervise her repaying the debt to society," Officer Johnson's tone clearly states that he thinks he is talking to a massive idiot.

"What debt to society?!"

"All details of Miss Leary's misdemeanour are provided in the report that will be available for you when you come and pick her up. And please, hurry up, she is creating havoc in the detention center. Other female detainees seem to get rather inspired by her ultra feminist statements."

What in the Durin's name has he gotten himself into?


End file.
